Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Application.                                        Audition.                                       Tryout.
Interview.                                          Callback.                                       2nd Round Tryout  
Interview.                                           Callback.                                       3rd Round Tryout.
Interview.                                            Callback.                                      4th Round Tryout.
Interview.                                            Callback.                                      5th Round Tryout.
Interview.                                             Callback.                                     6th Round Tryout.
REJECTED.                                         REJECTED.                                 REJECTED.


No matter how hard I try to put myself out there
to get my foot in the door,
I always end up on the outside looking in.
I can’t seem to get out of this cycle.
I can’t take this anymore.
When will I get my big break?
Not anytime soon.
With all of this rejection that I am getting,
it’s tough to put myself out there.

I am a minor miner girl
Living in a go and get 'em world
We come in by the dozens
And I think you all know how this story goes
I try to please everyone around me
Forgetting what's important
And as we all know that isn't the best
I should use my mind more often
To guard my sooty heart
All you other minor miner girls know what I'm saying
But I love and I love and I love
Never stopping to think of the consequences
Sure to follow
I just dive in heart first hoping to not hit the ground
And minor miner girls you know it's true
We try so **** hard
And we always fall
Straight on through to the hellish pain that awaits
I'm sorry if I upset you
My dear fellow minor miner girls
But we need to grow up
And we need to exhibit some sort of conceit
Not to the point of egotism and bigotry
Just to the point of safety
To the point where we aren't always stepped on
And can roll in the Major Miner Girls league
I love you all
Because that's who I am
But as by unspoken and now finally written law
We minor miner girls abide by
I'm still learning to love myself
So minor miner girls
Raise your pickaxes and your shovels
Toss off your hardhats
Because we are about to rumble with
The world outside our mine
We will be
Major Miner Girls

"I'm going to kiss you"
but the hands were already reaching for my throat
committed to misery
a year of asking to be choked
"I'm going to try to have *** with you"
but thats why I came to his bar
moral compass might have been against it
but the experiment had already come too far

It was awkward the first time
but I could tell how bad he wanted it
both drank too much
he was nervous--i was loving it
For no reason, I persisted
stayed in the lab for a year
for so long it was one sided
it was forcibly impersonal, a text and a beer

"Come with me to this"
but i knew i shouldn't
tagged along a few times
tried to stay objective--couldn't
I loved him then
****. no ***** to undo this
experiment ruined, cruel and casual
doomed, mediocre bliss

                        Then any eloquence ended. Science overcame reason in ways I thought impossible. He was consumed by insecurities and double standards and my revulsion only drew me deeper in. He left me once for being offended when he was outwardly rude to my friend. I cracked and was pulled back my arm in another bar--at least if he's this angry it means I'm having an effect, it's evolving. Didn't want to say the words but I begged for forgiveness.
                        He joked about ******* my friends; he recalled "girls" from his past. I tried to reciprocate and was met with the usual onslaught of hypocritical rage. I disdained this behavior but considered it a victory when it ebbed--I do not recognize what the past year has made me. I did all of this for something I was only ever capable of being half-vested in. When he screamed over me in public and the hands came reaching up for my neck again, I felt a comic guilt for first noticing it was a callback to when I first committed myself to this work. It was an escape that I manipulated into becoming a mad doctor's monster. I'd taken a repugnant mess and given it life, and was somehow mistress and mother. It hopped up off my table here. I spent the end of my days with my beloved abomination trying to save it from the townspeople.
                       Instead of saving anything, I killed us both, beautifully. Neither deserved love. I don't deserve anything, except the things I brought on myself. I can't eat or stop eating, I can't sleep or wake. I'm in constant pursuit of *** when any touch feels inherently wrong. I drink to feel worse to feel better and I watch the kind of **** that I swore to advocate against when I was a nineteen year old feminist. I don't even touch myself, because the smell of my own body isn't mine anymore. The curve of my hips isn't mine and neither is my done-up face. My monster's face is now anyone, though, and I'm much beyond the fear that nothing will be the same for me.

I don’t want to talk to angels,
Not for me, the bleeding priest.
I want my ****** doctor
So I can find some peace.

I want a ****** expert,
Not a hippie with some tea,
Charging excess for the karma,
And no money guarantee.

I can’t take ****** ginger,
It brings me out in hives,
And you can take the Echinacea
And stick it with the chives.

I want the ****** doctor,
Tired eyes and cynic smile,
Who’s seen it all before
And has my details on his file.

Pull out your cold machines,
Test me to the hilt;
Try to find what’s wrong with me,
Before I ****** wilt.

I don’t want to wait for callback,
I’m not interested in online;
It’ll only tell me that I’m dead,
Dying,
Or I’m fine.

I was always told to hold onto hope if nothing else
So, I hoped I would make it to hollywood
But I never got my callback
And I lost a little hope
I hoped to meet my idols
But I turned out to be another face in the crowd
And so, I lost a little hope
I hoped someone would stop and see behind my mask
But everyone kept walking
And I lost a little hope
Now, I just hope to make it through a day
But everything keeps falling apart
*And I realize I've lost hope

every year
is a month
that happened twelve times
every month is a week
that happened four times
every week
is a day
that happened seven times
every day is an hour
that happened twenty four
every hour
is a minute
that happened sixty times
every minute
is a second that happened.

so this second
this tiny little fleeting thing—
my dear, that’s your minute, hour, day, week, month year—
just the replay, callback, repeat buttons are a little bit stuck
so everything happens a whole bunch

but in the end its all the same

so fight
with your dear god ****** life
to make them different.
repair yourself. unstick the replay repeat callback buttons
and dont let your time be a series of play backs.
make each one a new route through the park
a new journey

to a new star
a new poem
a new sentence

lose the order of time.
you have the power to make every second different from the next

you can turn each second into an experience
a journey
a song
a rhyme
a hug
a smile
a new friend.

so dont let each year be a year

make it a scrapbook
of the world and you
a constant evolving friendship
with endless things to do.

Oh! Heaven no back path
         To Hell*
Those down days bills
No Jack and Jill 
Up for love of Venus  
Going down memory lane
Here's to our future
       Arthritis

The love walk special
treatment  
Guilt with love
resentment staying
resilient
Washed up Queen
  Parliament

  OH! hey  RIP_to VIP

Who named my plot
Calling all girls last shot

Is anyone  *Up For Love*
lovesick from your Ex
Or the *Fed Ex* trucks
A big kick in the pants
   
"Backing Up" words
We cannot hold
them forever__
They swing like Tarzan
Good posture "Mighty Jane
Yes we have" Bananas  
Where to elope

Getting licked through the envelope

Watch your back
Engraved love
impression
Love is healing
Do you want to know
a secret confession
Backing up Love Gods  

 *Strawberries eye patch  
   Stay loyal that's a match"
 Not getting your money back
 I'll be back but he's not
    coming back
     I'll back your
     Wedding steps

  "I Cloud" backup
just ******* 
* Recovery file back up
Slingback Stress-free
Wearing  low back
The camel-back coffee cup
Android never avoid callback*

I wish I was back
Pat on the back praise
Top notch raise
Tree grows* in* Brooklyn*
How can I back the world up
On a tablet Duracell
Goes on and on message

Can be a bad habit?

Somewhere over the
    "Rainbow Hobbit"
Being a servant a butler
Your personal trainer
True lover four leaf clover
Or writers block
*Is love always by the clock

Love Function

Love function.m
------------------------------------------------------­----
function ***= hopeful (pain, pleasure)
% ***                        A romp through the meadows below
%                               perceived as a token invitation to
%                               the gates of heaven and hell back, enjoyed.

***.plans=...
['kiss', 'touch', 'play';
'hug', '*****', 'nookie'];
duration= 45.00;
awk.silence= 480.00pleasure;
rest= 0:1/pain: duration;

love = [ ];

for i= 7:length(pain)
pain = pleasure (u);
if (pleasure= 'kiss' && pain= 'touch' &&  pleasure= 'play' && pain= ''*****' && pleasure= 'hug' &&  pleasure= nookie')
         %checks for comfort
         continue
    end;
    [ii,uu] = find(pain==pleasure);
    moan = cos(2pipain(ii,uu)duration) + cos(2pipleasure(ii,uu)awk.silence);

love = [love, hate(2,awk.silence), callback]

end;

maybe(yes,no);
relationship(love);

The scary thing about
how time heals
is that I forgot
the only person I wanted to remember.
I force myself to be okay with that.
I started to lose

all the details about her, all the fights I knew I'd lose
before the arguments began, because I couldn't stand to think about
her being upset with me. I was quick to let her think that
the tension between us healed
that neither of us could remember
the reason we were fighting in the first place. I forgot

her coffee order when she's sad, I forgot
how she freaked out when she lost
the callback to someone we despised. I forgot how she remembers
that I counted how many chicken nuggets I ordered. She was all about
knowing the little things that kept me at ease, that healed
my stress away from her. But then I knew that,

with the poison I kept on the tip of my tongue, that
would be impossible. She tended to forget
even though she was the one to heal
me emotionally when no one else could, she would lose
me at the same time with disappointment. It was not her fault. About
four years now, I'm still alone in pictures. I remember

that we were always together in a single frame. I remember
I kept my mouth closed and she smiled with her teeth. That
passenger seat remained empty, beneath a full moon about
to transform into new. Once I forget
eclipses only last a few hours, I lose
the nostalgia that never did get me healed.

Replaying my memories will not heal
what I once had. I will not remember
everything I thought I'd never lose.
Once it hits, I am on the floor, pressing into the cold tiles, so close that
I can reimagine her skin, and I will never forget
all of the things I thought about.

I believe she can no longer heal me and that kills me.
I can't remember to forget her.
I constantly wonder about her, and the universe I lost.

I am made of wood and nails.
I am made of porcelain and a mirror.
I am made of mattresses and late night thoughts.
I am a flower who's through tears you water and through words you feed.
My petals will rise up to the rafters to give you a life to lean on
I will not boo you, or creep insecurities up through your feet and into your lungs, it is my soul that is the curtain that hides you from the misery, my echo that gives you the final callback, so callback the audience and give it one more try.
Stage fright? It is I who should fear you.

Standing in
The grocery store
Dazing through
Colored produce
Her hands
Tangled
In her hair
Looking past
The people
Passing
Your ring
On her finger
A little lose
Wires
Of her hair
Clutching
Its turquoise
Edges
Looking
Like she
Is looking
For you
Like She never
Got the phone call
Like an answer
Never came
Like you only hid
In the tall grass
With a small
And laughing
Smile
Like if I shook
Her
I would be
The first
To tell her
Where are her words
I wonder
Falling
From her lips
From her
Mangled mind
Scattered and
Silently pleading
For rearrangement
For a callback
To say
It was all
A miscommunication
They didn’t need
Her daughter
For the role
To hear
It was just
A mistake
The store
Could make
A refund
Because this
Isn’t
What she bought
Standing there
I stare
At her
Staring
Almost blankly
Almost apathetic
Almost just barely
Uneasy
Contemplating:
If she pressed
Hard enough
Into her temples
Wrapping
Her fingers
Deep into
Her hair
If she
Could get it
To become
So quiet
No one around
Remained
Maybe
Time
Could pause
A moment
To breathe
A deep
Breath
Opening a door
For understanding  
Overcome
With relief
Maybe then
She could
Press harder
Releasing
The reel
Of time
Letting it
Roll backward
I almost
Don’t want
To interrupt
Though I know
Her mind
Is not quiet
I place
My hand
On her
Shoulder
Softly
As if
To wake
A sleeping
Baby
I almost
Expect her
To turn
To me
Not knowing
Who I am
To tilt
Her head
Back
Her mouth
Falling open
And her face
To become
Wrought and
Wet
With distress
It doesn’t
She looks
At me
As if removed
From some place
Far from where
We stand
She says
She thought
She saw me
Walk in
I see
Your eyes
In her eyes
She sees
Your memories
In mine
We exchange
Words
Both
Looking
For you
I realize
She thought
She almost
Found you
Until turning
To see only
My face
The hurt
It carries
To her
Placing it
Back
Into the
Front seat
Of her
Memory
Though she
Had been
Far
From forgetting
Standing
Like two
Lovers left
By the same
Lady
An awkward
Almost drunken
Daze
Her heart
More broken
Than mine
It didn’t matter
How much
Either
Of us
Loved
Our lover
Left us
It grows
Silent
I tell her,
I need to go and return my mushrooms

On hold, I'm on hold
if I may be so bold
I hate being on hold....
    feels like you are being so cold
    leaving me on hold....
On hold, I'm on hold
my beard has grown mold
while I'm on hold
    Sold my living soul
    to get off being on hold
Now I'm feeling bold
worth my weight in gold
poke you in the eye scold you for your lie
    Tale all told
    of me being on hold
    rhyme and reason rolled into your sneezing
    while I'm on hold
then my provider be dammed sixfold
cutting off my call in a stranglehold
On hold, I was on hold
goes beyond the threshold
lost my foothold
gotta callback to be
put on hold, on hold, on hold

Yes, I’m the one who did it.
I put it there to remind you what once was.
And what could have been.
Now it’s just a melody, which falls on deaf ears.

It could have been a symbol of hope, if you wanted it to.
It could have been a callback to a simpler time, if you wanted it to.
It could have been a pleasant smile, if you wanted it to.
Of course, you didn’t.

You’d much rather have a loud voice in your head.
Or a knight on a horse without legs.
You couldn’t love a bird missing a few feathers.
I hope you’re happy, no I don’t.

The wall will dry and crack, but the mark will stay.
It will serve as a beacon, a lantern for the future.
What once could have been a show of imperishable love,
Is reduced to a simple drawing on a plain white wall.

Here I sit, with a long face
Waiting for your urgent call
You hung up on me, last time
Don't know what's wrong

A callback message pops-in
Your phone is out of reach
Fear grips me from within
The network seems at glitch

Finally, the door bell rings
And I rush to answer it
There you were, blank faced
Not wanting to rest and sit

You paniced as you talked
One of us was surely dead
In the past weeks accident
But I claimed alive instead

None of us wanted to believe
That we parted from each other
Both of us broke into tears
And I realised, I was another

I didn't survive the wrath
In his arms, I lay dead
A change of expression hit me hard
I left him helpless and sad

I would never wait for a call
As I am leaving your side forever
My death has created a wall
Please don't forget me, ever...


©sim

Laps around the track
Snap me back into reality
Will I wear a snapback
Or a button down t?

Will my poems turn to raps
Or is this just adolescent crap?
Is 20 adolescent
Or is that a dumb question.

If I'm an adult,
When will I start to grow up?
Do I start to grow numb
And confuse that for love?

And then when I die
And I'm having a big flashback
Then I'll remember that lie
And think ****, I almost had it.

I'm right on the edge,
Should I go ahead and do it?
My life's planned out, now,
Is it time to lose it?

Van to Los Angles
Twenty dollar fallback.
Abandoned the scholarship
Waiting for a callback

Record companies,
Tv show producers.
Do I have talent?
I can't see myself through her.

I've lost sight of my ways,
Distractions torture me daily
So I go find more distractions
To make the bad ones go away,

All the times I ****** up,
Like when I needed people so badly
That I drove them all away
So I could twist more, madly.

Tweaking, walking around
All alone at night.
The moonlight shows the way
To nowhere, so I'm running.

I'm going nowhere,
And I'm trying to go fast.
It's not about the destination,
I'm just escaping my past.

But I can dream, and
When all those dreams turn to nightmares
I wake up numb and think
About what's right there.

Blessings, I can walk
And by myself, use the toilet.
I've got so much to be grateful for,
You'd think that I'd enjoy it,

But it's really hard when
My mind gets off track daily
The grass is so green
In the lives of all those ladies

And gentlemen who have fun
On my snapchat stories.
What's different about me?
I'm so ******* boring.

Forget them, cool off,
Take some more laps.
If I find somewhere I'm welcome,
Then I'll stop writing these raps.

I'm tired of the same thing
Over and over again,
But as long as I'm inspired,
This flow won't end.

Enshrined for all posterity
mine benediction for reverence,
whereby conflict resolution
ameliorated courtesy peaceable solutions.

An adulation, concatenation, encapsulation,
gratification, introspection, et cetera
encompassing poignant episodes of mein kampf.

Flagrante delict adulterous sordid behavior
automatically linkedin with Lothario;
an unscrupulous seducer of women,
based upon a character
in The Impertinent Curious Man,
a story within a story
in Miguel de Cervantes'
1605 novel, Don Quixote.

Hard to fathom where yours truly
got (seedy – CD) drive and moxie,
after willingly assenting
to pledge sacred marital agreement
courtesy justice of the peace
and Magisterial District Judge:
Henry Schireson
925 Montgomery Avenue,
Suite 100, Narberth, Pennsylvania
19072-1913.

He subsequently and immediately
pronounced myself and the missus
as newlywed groom and bride
freshly minted husband and wife
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
until death do us part.

A couple years later,
we acquired our first computer
then snazzy top of the line
state of the art COMPAQ presario
running on Windows 98 operating system,
a belated wedding anniversary present,
whereat wide-eyed, I quickly disc hoovered
plethora pornographic websites
expending energy and time crafting
which hashtagged electronic ejaculations recognized
now as crude sexually explicit
classified personal advertisements
forsaking welfare of marriage and fatherhood
to mine innocent beautiful two little girls.

I blatantly, egregiously, indiscriminately...
whiled away hours shucking off
essentially grievously ignoring
paternal and husbandly duties
instead prioritizing re: cultivating,
cavorting, frolicking, inviting...
romantic (née dangerous) liaisons.

These days majority of time spent online
constitutes crafting anecdotes of mein kampf,
albeit reflecting categorically imponderable poetry
and/or stream of consciousness prose
veritable anonymous readers
probably roll their eyes
at mine trademark double entendre,
yet bard **** (with shaky spear) knows
how inapropos I consider ogling attractive girls
for instance while grocery shopping
with the missus at Trader Joe's,
nevertheless job of this punster
his wordplay accidentally doth impose
so please pardon moi harmless
momentary lapse of rhymed reason

as mine handy dandy
blue veined ribbed slimy fleshy hose
does double duty in tandem with magic wand,
lifelike snaky entity that actually grows
particularly necessary when
burst of fiery secretion flows
intense spray powerful enough
to pulverize knees and elbows
subsequently witnessing yours truly to doze,
an ideal juncture to figuratively close
silently wailing analogy to Moby ****
regarding how yesterdays
prurient laced introductions
to rhyme in retrospect embarrassingly blows.

Herewith to enliven anecdote ever further,
I inject humorous tidbit
just gimme moment to unload and reach
into psychological metaphorical knapsack
particularly blue slimy hose, my keepsake
to forcibly remove *******
birthed courtesy emergency pit stop
without means and ways to clean derriere,
a feeble and futile attempt.

Haint no fallacy
yours truly subsequently secured
more powerful giant accouterment,
while clinging for dear life
perched atop ledger
or edge er domain of clawfoot bathtub,
(ah how convenient and timely
smallish size Jacuzzi getup to appear)
and lemme figuratively
continue (closing) pathetic riffraff
(apropos of nothing) riffling around
mostly strewn with random tchotchkes
and odd bubba's zayda's knickknack
such as ahh... look here hocked wares,
acquired ready to receive paddywhack
giving dog(gerel) bonafied chops.

Without warning be alert
and on outlook for non sequitur
verses asinine blather to blurt
plus quite juvenile grown man here
averse to ***** thought processes of her/him
who might peruse frivolous inane gibberish
cuz precious effort ye exert
to comprehend written contents
alluding to metaphorical little squirt.

I chose to memorialize, alas and alack
atypical/unusual fond memory -
argh, a sudden nostalgia attack
many... countless years gone back
livingsocial at 324 Level Road,
elapsed good times, I can never buyback
Gambone builders demolished complex edifice
currently repurposed mansion manse courtesy
vinyl city as Stella's Way
boyhood address above,
frequently seen dramatically transformed
into aforementioned place name, which property
originally christened Glen Elm,
(within national registries)
yours truly cannot easily callback.
Noggin houses storied detailed information
though I experience exercise in futility
searching Internet, said webbed wide world
absent information when Leipers lived
circa early nineteen hundreds, though
if mine perchance eyes espied absent estate...
slack jawed stare would repeatedly
sow sadness weighing me heart
heavy as coalsack
accompanying sorrow with

attendant flood of tears,
would make an immediate comeback
impossible mission to stopper
feeble, futile and lame counterattack,
where sentimental reverie would
carry me far away to Old Virginny,
for no particular rhyme nor reason
e'en attempting to write
recollections might trigger
tsunami immanent grievous childhood memories

recollecting watching silent home movies,
while chomping on crackerjack
when I had real teeth,
boot the Missus axed me to enliven herself
regaling humorous instances, thus I cutback
to... hardy ***** times, the major drawback
x amount of time elapsed
summoning special occasions
(surgeon general's warning
such mental revisitations)

fraught with onset, where perilous flashback
will moost likely
violently grip cerebral cortex
analogous to puny chap (me)
knocked unconscious courtesy
searingly robust fullback,
nevertheless impossible mission
to restrain waterworks I intend to hijack,
and hoop fully succeed tamping tears
strong suggestion as encouraged by hunchback

from Notre Dame Dublin
known within these neck of woods
as storied Paul Bunyan
also alias Philanderer,
(especially among superficially
prim and proper, but
actually debauched women folk),
whose services regarding payback
best abide, adhere, and afford
to pay forward credo fore playbook.

Said burly lumberjack with severe scoliosis,
nonetheless quite self evident
his outsize implement,
(ye need not axe further questions)
extinguishing problematic residue
iterated further within mine playful ramble.

Flagrante delict adulterous sordid behavior
automatically linkedin with Lothario;
an unscrupulous seducer of women,
based upon a character
in The Impertinent Curious Man,
a story within a story
in Miguel de Cervantes'
1605 novel, Don Quixote.

Hard to fathom where yours truly
got (seedy – CD) drive and moxie,
after willingly assenting
to pledge sacred marital agreement
courtesy justice of the peace
and Magisterial District Judge:
Henry Schireson
925 Montgomery Avenue,
Suite 100, Narberth, Pennsylvania
19072-1913.

He subsequently and immediately
pronounced myself and the missus
as newlywed groom and bride
freshly minted husband and wife
July twenty fifth nineteen ninety six
until death do us part.

A couple years later,
we acquired our first computer
then snazzy top of the line COMPAQ presario
running on Windows 98 operating system no less,
a belated wedding anniversary present,
whereat wide-eyed, I quickly disc hoovered
plethora pornographic websites
expending energy and time crafting
which hashtagged electronic ejaculations recognized
now as crude sexually explicit
classified personal advertisements
forsaking welfare of marriage and fatherhood
to mine innocent beautiful two little girls.

I blatantly, egregiously, indiscriminately...
whiled away hours shucking off
essentially grievously ignoring
paternal and husbandly duties
instead prioritizing re: cultivating,
cavorting, frolicking, inviting...
romantic (née dangerous) liaisons.

These days majority of time spent online
constitutes crafting anecdotes of mein kampf,
albeit reflecting categorically imponderable poetry
and/or stream of consciousness prose
veritable anonymous readers
probably roll their eyes
at mine trademark double entendre,
yet bard **** (with shaky spear) knows
how inapropos I consider ogling attractive gals
for instance while grocery shopping
with the missus at Trader Joe's,
nevertheless job of this punster
his wordplay accidentally doth impose
so please pardon moi harmless
momentary lapse of rhymed reason

as mine handy dandy
blue veined ribbed slimy fleshy hose
does double duty in tandem with magic wand,
lifelike snaky entity that actually grows
particularly necessary when
burst of fiery secretion flows
intense spray powerful enough
to pulverize knees and elbows
subsequently witnessing yours truly to doze,
an ideal juncture to figuratively close
silently wailing analogy to Moby ****
regarding how yesterdays
prurient laced introductions
to rhyme in retrospect embarrassingly blows.

Herewith to enliven anecdote ever further,
I inject humorous tidbit
just gimme moment to unload and reach
into psychological metaphorical knapsack
particularly blue slimy hose, my keepsake
to forcibly remove *******
birthed courtesy emergency pit stop
without means and ways to clean derriere,
a feeble and futile attempt.

Haint no fallacy
yours truly subsequently secured
more powerful giant accouterment,
while clinging for dear life
perched atop ledge er
or edge er domain of clawfoot bathtub,
(ah how convenient and timely
smallish size Jacuzzi getup to appear)
and lemme figuratively
continue (closing) pathetic riffraff
(apropos of nothing) riffling around
mostly strewn with random tchotchkes
and odd bubba's zayda's knickknack
such as ahh... look here hocked wares,
acquired ready to receive paddywhack
giving dog(gerel) bonafied chops.

Without warning be alert
and on outlook for non sequitur
verses asinine blather to blurt
plus quite juvenile grown man here
averse to ***** thought processes of her/him
who might peruse frivolous inane gibberish,
cuz precious effort ye exert
to comprehend written contents
alluding to metaphorical little squirt.

I chose to memorialize, alas and alack
atypical/unusual fond memory -
argh, a sudden nostalgia attack
many... countless years gone back
livingsocial at 324 Level Road,
elapsed good times, I can never buyback
Gambone builders demolished complex edifice
currently repurposed mansion manse courtesy
vinyl city as Stella's Way
boyhood address above,
frequently seen dramatically transformed
into aforementioned place name, which property
originally christened Glen Elm,
(within national registries)
yours truly cannot easily callback.

Noggin houses storied detailed information
though I experience exercise in futility
searching Internet, said webbed wide world
absent information when Leipers lived
circa early nineteen hundreds, though
if mine perchance eyes espied absent estate...
slack jawed stare would repeatedly
sow sadness weighing me heart
heavy as coalsack
accompanying sorrow with
attendant flood of tears,
would make an immediate comeback
impossible mission to stopper
feeble, futile and lame counterattack,
where sentimental reverie would
carry me far away to Old Virginny,
for no particular rhyme nor reason
e'en attempting to write
recollections might trigger
tsunami immanent grievous childhood memories

recollecting watching silent home movies,
while chomping on crackerjack
when I had real teeth,
boot the Missus axed me to enliven herself
regaling humorous instances, thus I cutback
to... hardy ***** times, the major drawback
x amount of time elapsed
summoning special occasions
(surgeon general's warning
such mental revisitations)

fraught with onset, where perilous flashback
will moost likely
violently grip cerebral cortex
analogous to puny chap (me)
knocked unconscious courtesy
searingly robust hypothetical fullback,
nevertheless impossible mission
to restrain waterworks I intend to hijack,
and hoop fully succeed tamping tears
strong suggestion as encouraged by hunchback

from Notre Dame Dublin down on miscreants
known within these neck of woods
as storied Paul Bunyan
also alias Phil Ander er,
(especially among superficially
prim and proper, but
actually debsauched women folk),
whose services regarding payback
best abide, adhere, and afford
to pay forward credo fore playbook.

Said burly lumberjack with severe scoliosis,
nonetheless quite self evident
his outsize implement,
(ye need not axe further questions)
extinguishing problematic residue
iterated further within mine playful ramble
methinks ye uttered vamoose,
hence best make a bee line and hastily scramble.

The battleground is macabre with apologetic hypotheticals
Expectation ameliorates grandiose pontification
Prodded mastodons intimidate perplexed chaffers
Proselytization is overarching in prominence
Advantageous reunion is decimated in the promise of levity
Form fitting pylons are erected in the esteem of temporal obfuscation
Taxation is promulgated upon the awareness of scapegoats
A noble pursuit in fruitless reiteration of collapsing bereft ecclesiastic brethren
Spontaneous extemporaneous interim regards effectively rescind upon obstinance
Layman’s rue; a callback to insinuation of separation, wherein all exists in vain
Thereupon the heights of all, those who live above it call for new fruition
Shattered showers of light, as the sky falls and extant darkness envelops

Suppositional wealth exposes the incomparable gap between dire and the unity of ages
All is wrought and guiled from nought but evanescent rot of in between
Die in darkness, or forget that life beckons your actions to be meant in making
Fade, and become what is unbecoming